


oyasumi.ᴉɯnsɐʎo

by Mxrigolds



Category: Original Work
Genre: Insomnia, Murder, Stalking, Strangulation, ish...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mxrigolds/pseuds/Mxrigolds
Summary: Inspired by bo en - my timeoriginally written in Korean and intended to be much longer.





	oyasumi.ᴉɯnsɐʎo

“Not getting enough sleep?”  
“Yeah… How’d you know?”

The images of you tossing and turning on your bed, eventually getting up through your closet doors play through my mind.

“You look tired nowadays.”  
“Really? Do I look that dishevelled?” You pout, checking your under eyes on the mirror.  
“Kinda, I heard drinking warm milk helps.”

-

Yet again you toss and turn. How annoying. You look so lovely while asleep.  
You get up from your bed and leave the room. A few minutes later I hear the microwave ring. You return to the room, falling back asleep again.

-

Again. You get up, leave the room. The familiar ring of the microwave. Three minutes later you’ll come back and fall asleep again.

‘Crash’

Or not. I could hear you groan beyond the wall. Within seconds you stomp to your room, falling on your bed. I thought you fell asleep, but you rose up again. Turning your head to me. Getting up and walking towards the closet.

I’ll just  
I’ll just  
I’ll just  
I’ll just

You stand in front of the closet doors. “I thought I heard something.”

Kill you?

Right here?

“Probably nothing.” You walk towards your bed.

-

You wake up with a jolt. Gasping for air. You sit up, trying to calm your breath. You leave the room. The microwave rings, haven’t heard that in a while. Three minutes.

30 seconds passed. Footsteps. Getting closer. Why? The sound of your door opening. Footsteps even closer. Where are you going? Why aren’t you at your bed?

With a creak the closet door opens. Our eyes meet. Your mug shatters.

You freeze. I lunge forward.

You try to get my arms off. My hands reach for your throat. Your breath hitches.

You can’t overpower me. Why bother.

The focus on your eyes blur. Your lips turn blue. You stop resisting. The only sign you’re alive is your barely shaking hands.

Dead.  
Murdered.  
You.  
By me.

I carry your body, devoid of any warmth. The mattress creaks, giving in on your weight. I cover you with a blanket. My hands brush over your eyelids. Finally, it seems like you’re asleep.

The last image of you is so lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> go to the doctor if you're suffering from insomnia


End file.
